Page 1 of Bazooka

Trouble is my Middle Name

Luz

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Luuuuuz. Happy birthday to you.”

I blew out the candle, laughing at what had to be the worst rendition of the Happy Birthday song I’ve heard in my life.

Neither of my three friends could carry a tune, so no wonder the entire bar stared at us, not that we cared.

I was famous for not giving a shit while my friends, known as the Triple Threat, were oblivious as always.

Why the Triple Threat? Because each of them was a menace to society in his own charming way.

Alain was a French-Canadian linguist with the constitution of a quarterback.

He had both brains and muscles, but he was also extremely clumsy and a raging hypochondriac.

Wagner was a programmer by day, a hacker by night, and a germophobe twenty-four seven.

Finally, Dakotah, or as we called him, Dotty, was an anesthesiologist with a passion for baking.

With his blond hair and pouty lips, Dakotah was the perfect example of androgynous beauty, but also painfully shy.

And I? I was the shit-stirrer. The troublemaker.

The rabble-rouser. I had more sass and bravado than a cheerleading team, so thinking before speaking wasn’t my forte.

Trouble always followed me, although through no fault of my own.

The way I saw it, I just kept finding myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Still, my twenty-fifth birthday made me feel funny, and it had nothing to do with my age.

A strange gloom filled me, as if something was missing in my life—something fundamental.

My devil-may-care attitude was still on display like a fly on a turd, but it was deceptive, and only I knew it.

I toyed with the idea that I was maturing and becoming a boring fuck, but was that the real reason?

Or was it because, not so long ago, the unthinkable happened—someone rejected me?

“Happy birthday, Luz,” Ruby said, bringing another round of drinks to the table. “This one is on the house.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Rub. And please pass on my thanks to Pete for letting us bring the cake in here.”

“Oh, no problem.”

Pete, the owner of Pete’s and our favorite drinking establishment, was seldom present.

What he had, though, was a great staff and the finest selection of liquor in this part of town.

With it came a steady flow of customers, many of them from the nearby police precinct known as the Loser’s Division.

How did it earn the catchy sobriquet? When all the worst cops in the police force got transferred to the Smitsville Police Department.

Why? Someone thought it would be a good idea to keep them all in one place.

Since Smitsville had the highest crime rate in the country, it made every sense to bring them here—or no sense at all.

The new round of drinks made my friends cheer so loudly that I had to cover my ears.

“Drinks! Drinks! Drinks! Drinks! Drinks!”

What spoiled my mood were the four rugby players glaring at us from the nearby table.

Their hostile stares told me they were semi-drunk and full-on homophobic, so I flipped them off.

As I said earlier… too much bravado, and not enough sense.

They didn’t like it, especially the guy with a missing tooth, who had been staring at me since we came here.

“Dotty, cut the cake before Luz gets us into trouble,” Alain said, squirming in his seat. He spilled his drink in the process, because it was his thing. Dropping stuff, breaking things, and tripping over his own two feet—it was only the tip of the iceberg.

“I don’t think they like us,” Dakotah whispered, cutting into a cake.

“Judging by their looks, they don’t like soap either,” I added, glaring at the sweaty, drunken foursome. “Or dentists.”

“Are those plates clean?” Wagner grumbled when Dakotah handed him a slice of cake served on a paper plate. “Don’t you know these things are hotspots for germs?”

I rolled my eyes, but then my phone rang and saved me from another fruitless discussion.

“Hello?”

“Happy birthday, Luz,” Devon said, sounding overly enthusiastic. “Did you think I forgot?”

To be honest, I hoped he would, which made me feel bad, because Devon was a nice guy.

He thought logically, spoke sensibly, and acted commendably, unlike yours truly.

Was that why I stopped seeing him? The reasons were countless.

He was boring. We had nothing to talk about.

Sex, the one time we had it, was awful. And, most importantly, I fancied someone else.

“Would you like to get together sometime?” Devon asked me the question I dreaded. “We could celebrate your birthday, just the two of us.”

I faked a cough before answering him in a gravelly voice. “You know, I would love to, but I think I’m coming down with something. I should probably rest for a few months. I mean, weeks. Days .”

“Oh,” Devon said, sounding disappointed. “I understand, of course. Some other time then. Will you call me? Or should I call you?”

“Yup, yup,” I replied, ignoring the looks my three friends exchanged. “Sure thing. Let’s do that.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

“‘Kay, bye.”

After I hung up, Dakotah handed me a slice of cake that he baked himself.

“It’s your favorite, Luz. A chocolate fudge cake with chocolate buttercream and fresh strawberries. Pure decadence.”

“I would say you didn’t have to, but it looks delicious,” I admitted. “Thanks, Dot.”

Wagner looked up from his phone, which was always in his hand.

“Was that Devon?” he asked me as I took a mouthful of cake.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I told you he’s one of the clingy ones.” Wagner expressed his humble opinion. “He probably fell for you. They all do.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “We went on two dates and fucked once. And it has been months .”

“Don’t you believe in love at first sight?” Alain said with a teasing smile, as Dakotah gave him a “don’t go there” look.

“I don’t believe in love, period,” I stated.

Wagner smirked.

“Something funny?” I asked him, not appreciating his amused expression.

“You tell me.”

I rolled my eyes. “You want me to say it? Fine, I’ll say it. No, I have never been in love. No, I’m not in love. I hope I never fall in love. Not at first sight or otherwise. Happy now?”

Wagner shrugged. “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

“I believe you, Luz,” Dotty said, jabbing Alain in the ribs. “You believe him, too, don’t you, Al?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Alain mumbled, placing his fingers on his wrist to check his pulse. “One hundred percent.”

I bit my nail, angry at myself for letting them drag me into that stupid conversation.

And that red-haired, toothless rugby prick was still staring at me!

I dipped my finger into a chocolate cream and made a show of licking my finger clean, pretending it was a nice, big dick.

The asshole turned red in the face, looking as if he was about to strangle me.

Or fuck me, but I doubted he was that self-aware.

When my phone rang and I saw the caller ID, I grinned.

“Aww, you care after all,” I said into the phone. “That’s so sweet.”

“Happy birthday, Luz,” Detective Tye Thorsen said. “Are you celebrating or stirring up trouble?”

“Both, actually. Where’s your handsome hubby?”

“Carter is in the shower. He wishes you all the best.”

I was somewhat surprised that Tye called, but then again, he owed me.

In fact, the entire SPD owed me after I helped them catch the Butcher of Smitsville, risking my neck in the process.

How did I become entangled with the most notorious serial killer this area has ever known?

Simple—I was at the wrong place at the wrong time, as per usual.

“How was your honeymoon, Detective?” I said, sipping my mojito. “I bet Italy was awesome.”

“It was. We didn’t want to come back, but our transfer to Grangetown softened the blow.”

“That’s right, you two are not in the Loser’s Division anymore.”

Thanks to me, I almost added. After all, it was the Butcher of Smitsville case that got them out of the unpopular precinct.

“No, we’re not,” Tye said. “Furthermore, Carter’s parents moved to Africa and left him the farm. It’s near Grangetown, which makes things even more convenient.”

“From detectives to farmers.” I mused. “Who would have thought?”

“Not yet, but hopefully one day. It’s not as if we want to solve crime and hunt slime for the rest of our life.”

“For sure,” I agreed, clearing my throat. “By the way, can you text me Bazooka’s new phone number? I forgot to add it to my contacts.”

Tye laughed. “Nice try, Luz.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, ignoring my friends’ reproachful looks.

“Oh, Luz,” Tye Thorsen said, sounding amused. “Bazooka would rather let someone extract all his teeth than give you his phone number.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I muttered sulkily. “I forgot how big of a dickhead you are.”

“Find someone else to crush on, Luz,” Tye added. “Perhaps someone who isn’t straight and uninterested in your ass.”

“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stated, raising my chin in defiance. “And I’m not crushing on anyone.”

“I said my piece,” Tye said, stifling a yawn. “Anyway, have a good one. And stay out of trouble, if that’s even possible.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.”

I hung up, fuming.

“Who’s crushing on whom again?” Wagner said, keeping a blank face.

“Oh, give it a rest already,” I murmured, finishing my cocktail. “Don’t you have a company to hack or a virus to unleash or something?”

“Not presently.”

“Then eat your cake.”

“It’s contaminated.”

“We just want you to be happy, Luz,” Dakotah said, squeezing my hand. “You deserve it.”

“I am happy,” I growled. “Don’t I look happy, Alain?”

“You look just how I feel,” Alain replied with a frown, touching his forehead. “And I feel as if I have a fever. Maybe it’s that nasty flu that’s going around.”